I’m not a fan of Roseanne, but I hope she never has to watch this.

may the little coffee cup 
be blown over 
a cheap china pattern 
blue bulbs 

blooms on white 

a single cereal bowl 
from this set disperses 

and appears 
in apartment cabinets 
all over

miserable, swimming laps, aghast with vacancy

Moloch Eternal [1969 version}

we see an instant reply
of brains blasted at arm’s length

we gawk in color amazement
at monks posing as scarecrows
dressed in silken robes of flame

we turn

Lloyd finishes reading and Rae turns to me and says, Who was that guy, did you know him? And I say, Dude, that was Lloyd. And she says, What the fuck, that was Lloyd? And I say, That was Lloyd.

I.

Lately: she looks in the mirror and pulls at her eyelashes. Gently, at first, but then harder until finally each eyelash comes off one by one with a thin line of skin attached, like when you

Dead Driving: october 29, 2023, 10:31pm

there is a feeling i recall having, that i am having now as i remember it, in my stomach every time i feared death. felt close to it. was put in its

In a spacious room at the midtown hotel where the inimitable Tennessee Williams died, congregated a small but lively salon of authors and storytellers.

mew mew

She was a kid, he reasoned. She’d grow out of her ridiculous ideology. It wasn’t worth a confrontation.

Kate Axelrod’s new book of stories, How to Get Along Without Me, is, to quote the jacket copy, “a collection that summons the perversity and poignance of twentysomething dating lives from a bracingly

It is impossible to determine merely by looking how recently a modern American woman has been vaginally penetrated or rectally sodomized. One can never trust scientific data on matters such as how often a modern American woman is made love to in [enter current year].

Can you each pick two words to describe your book? 

Laura: Escapist fantasy

Eve: The first thing that came to mind for me was: “Oh, god.”

All the way up Highland isn’t Burbank, it’s heaven!

I could hear the Essex lads cooing and whispering to her, telling her that it would be okay

Her eyes looked up and zeroed in on Marina’s Muses. On the women floating through the air. No cares. Just an angel dancing in the blue heavens. 

Sheila Heti has a bad memory. She’s sitting on the stage of the Mark Taper Auditorium in the Los Angeles Central Library, wearing a velvet jumpsuit with gold tendrils and black lace tights. Heti tells

The black Mr. Sketch marker, Cucumber JUUL pods, Dr Pepper Lip Smacker, spirit duplicator, soggy sugary cereal milk mush, pink rubber pencil shavings, burning toast stroke, pumpkin spice scented hand sanitizer. 

That cicatrice ringing the heart, like notches on the prison wall, that sharp sweet spoor.

I eat a big salad and watch Kim and Kourtney eat big salads on a ten-year-old episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

We scuttled in through the back door, out of the glaring summer heat, bare feet welcoming the cool linoleum of the kitchen floor. Chattering like a pair of squirrels we rifled the pantry, pulling the

U were the only Turk i knew, and also the only Turk my parents liked. they never let me walk around the fountains at night even though it’s the only place in Sofia with streetlights after two a.m. b/c

I am seated at a small brown desk from IKEA, crafting a love letter.

See how the heart spills right out of me? Spills and spills, ink everywhere. This desk is too small.

Picture it: Me, a

A year after my wife Ada disappeared, I started attending the book club.

During the first rehearsal, her troupe members burn her thighs with incense sticks. It’s not hazing, it’s just how they bond.

Arnold Palmer died today. The news anchor announces it on the TV hanging in the corner as I’m dealt a pair of 9’s at a Jacks or Better machine. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that the news anchor